Disclaimer: I don't own Sanctuary or any of the characters used in this story. I do own my words, though. No copyright infringement is intended and I make no money with this little hobby of mine.

Spoilers: For King and Country

Pairing: Helen/John

Summary: "I lost the right to ask you anything over a hundred years ago," John whispered. "But I never stopped hoping, Helen."

A/N: This story popped into my head one day when I was driving home in the middle of the night. When I got home, I sat down and wrote the whole thing in one go, thinking it was the beginning of something, even though I couldn't figure out what. Then I read it through a few weeks later and realized it works better as a oneshot. I normally write lighter, funnier stories but this one turned out so beautiful I decided to publish it. I hope it's not too OOC.

I hope you like it. Please, let me know what you think.

English isn't my first language so I apologize for any errors.

(I fixed the two errors Selective scifi junkie kindly pointed out. Thank you!)

"I can't do this, John." Helen didn't need to turn around to know who was standing behind her. She was on the roof of the North tower, trying to get her thoughts together after the trip to Cambodia. John was supposed to be at the infirmary. Deep down she had know he'd come after her.

"I'm not asking you anything, Helen."

"You never do," she sighed hardly audible. "Not even forgiveness."

"I don't deserve your forgiveness."

Tears filled Helen's eyes all of a sudden. It always came down to this. With John her emotions were bare and raw, always close to the surface. This time was no exception. He made her feel over a hundred years younger, wiping away all the walls and barriers she had built around herself over the years. Despite that she didn't normally break down like this but it had been a rough week, even by her standards.

"I can't let you in this time. Not anymore," she said as firmly as she could.

"I'm not asking you to."

"Why did you follow me?"

"Hope... is the last to die," he said softly like it was a self-evident truth she should understand without asking. Helen snorted and wrapped her arms around her torso to keep the chill of the night out a little longer.

"I lost the right to ask you anything over a hundred years ago," he whispered. "But I never stopped hoping, Helen."

There was something unique about the way the words rolled off his tongue, Helen thought. No matter what he was saying, he sounded like he was reading a poem: powerful and mystic, filled with both honesty and secrets. And God, had she missed his voice, more than she was willing to admit even to herself.

"Hoping for what?" she whispered, not sure if she wanted to hear.

"Anything, everything, with you, Helen."

Helen remained silent, letting her eyes wander around the city. Lights turned off one by one as people called it a day went to sleep, a siren could be heard somewhere in the distance. And no matter what happened in this North Tower, rest of the world would go on like they always did. Because they could. A simple luxury she didn't have, not today.

Helen took a deep breath. "You hold my heart, John," she confessed. "You have ever since I first fell in love with you well over a hundred years ago."

He didn't answer anything but she knew he was listening. She could tell that from the way he breathed: deep, even breaths. He always did that when he was thinking, trying to cover the fact that his mind was racing. Helen wondered how many people knew that about him. She shook her head to concentrate. "And you break it, shred it, into million pieces," she continued. "And I wish you would just throw it at my face and leave, but you take the pieces with you every single time. I'm always broken without you, John. And I am tired of it. We've danced this dance for too long."

This time John stepped next to her but still remained silent, concentrating his attention to the same landing airplane Helen was watching. There would be many happy hugs at the airport arrivals soon, Helen thought. It was always the happiest place in the city. Friends, lovers and family who hadn't seen each other for a long time. Why couldn't it be like that to to them? Why was it always so difficult?

"You always sneak back into my world," Helen's voice was barely a whisper. "Whether I want it or not, you find your way in and you fix me with all the things you say and the things you leave unsaid. Then you break me again and then you're gone and it all starts again."

"Does it hurt any less if you fight it?"

"No," Helen sighed.

"Then stop fighting."

"John..."

"Helen." The way he said her name brought the tears back into her eyes. He could say a million things with one word. Firm, soft, inviting, apologizing, curious, loving, like her name was the most valuable treasure in the whole universe. And in that moment, she was willing to believe it was, for him. He was the constant in her life, the one thing that always remained even though everything else was wiped away. And even if her life depended on it, she couldn't decide if it was a curse or a blessing.

"I love you, John," she whispered, eyes never leaving the city lights. "And I want it to stop."

"I can't promise you much," he spoke softly. "Only that I will love you with all my heart as long as I shall live."

"For all eternity," Helen mumbled and John nodded next to her. "For all eternity," he repeated.

"That's hell of a long time, John."

"Haven't I kept that promise so far?"

Helen didn't need to say anything, they both knew he was telling the truth. They quit lying to each other long time ago.

"I want to get over you and move on," she said softly.

"No you don't." It was a statement without accusation, just another truth spoken out loud. Helen turned her head a little to look at his face. He had a calm, stoic expression on his face, eyes focused somewhere in the horizon.

"You don't know what I want," she sighed and stared straight ahead again. Hell, sometimes even she didn't know what she wanted.

"You want everything to be the way it was, when we were happy, but you think it's impossible."

"Isn't it?"

"I truly hope it isn't."

Helen didn't answer anything. John's voice was filled with honesty and pain, and something she might have called regret but refused to label. She wrapped her arms even tighter around herself to stop the cold from getting all the way to her bones. She was freezing but she didn't want to leave this roof and end this moment.

"I'm not asking you to marry me, Helen," John whispered.

"That supposed to cheer me up?" she asked, amused all of a sudden.

"I was hoping it would." There was smile in his voice despite the seriousness of the conversation.

"I still have your ring," she confessed absentmindedly and rubbed her arms to stay warm.

"Well in that case..."

Helen let out a laugh which was supposed to be dry and bitter but somehow turned into warm and loving somewhere along the way.

"Come on, love," John said and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Let's get you back inside."

"No," she said firmly and turned to look straight into his eyes. And like always, he understood her, knowing she wasn't declining his touch but the suggestion.

"We can continue this conversation somewhere warm."

"It's another conversation then, another moment. And that means this one is over"

"Helen... You know that with us, nothing is ever over."

She flashed him a quick, sad smile. "It might be soon, John." She was dying. After one and a half centuries of fighting and numerous wounds and scars from claws, teeth, bullets and knives, a radiation sickness was going to end her life. Some irony that was.

"Never, Helen," John murmured and gave her shoulder a little squeeze. "Hundred and fifty-nine years isn't good enough for an eternity and that's what I promised you."

Helen closed her eyes with a sigh and leaned her head on John's shoulder.

"You're going to be the end of me, John Druitt," she whispered.

"But I'm also the beginning, Helen," John whispered as he led them towards the door to get inside. "Just as you are mine. Always."

A/N: Please, let me know what you think. It means a lot to me.